


Party Favors

by BellasHope



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, Love at First Sight, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6890407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellasHope/pseuds/BellasHope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some drabbles/requests I've written on my Tumblr or just because.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Accidental Break-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i accidentally broke into ur apartment bc i was hella tired this morning and i swear it was an accident please don’t call the police” au

Roman doesn’t know why, but his consciousness is slowly poking through the peaceful lull of sleep he had going on. This was meant to be one of those ‘I’m passing out, do not disturb unless a fire and even then, it better be a fucking shitstorm before you wake me up’ type sleeps, and yet there he was, opening his eyes to the bright world of reality and allowing that annoying, incessant poking on his shoulder…

“Stop!” He shouts, head whipping to the asshole who thought it was a good idea to wake him. Stormy eyes narrowed and handsome features twisted in rage, Roman was ready to rip out the jugular of the intruder—

Intruder… Last time he checked, he lived alone and he made it a point to lock the door behind him after he entered his apartment. The Samoan jumped with a start, sitting up so fast, he didn’t give the intruder time to lean away, and was quickly sent into a world of hurt when their foreheads collided.

“OW!” They both cried in pain, clutching their damaged craniums. Roman fell back onto the couch cushion and the unknown took several steps back.

“What the fuck?!” Roman heard him curse loudly. “Motherfucker! Ugh! Now I’m glad I didn’t call the cops, cuz I’m gonna beat your ass.”

Sitting up again, albeit gently this time, Roman stuck his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Wait, wait, wait! Slow your roll.” He brought one hand back, not being able to take pulsating beat from that hit, and put it to his forehead. He finally takes a real look at this guy and just by the way he looks and dressed, Roman’s sure he’s some sort of psychopathic thief. With a bat. A psychopath with a bat.

“You can’t just bust into people’s homes and threaten to call the police on them. Is this like your first robbery or somethin’?” He asked, just to be an asshole because this random man woke him up, probably gave him a huge knot on his head and had the balls to threaten in him in his own home.

The man stared at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows tweaked in question. Roman mirrored the expression, not understanding why this guy was analyzing him like he was some monster come to life. “Imma tell you now, you’re doin’ a real shitty job.”

“Peoples' homes?” The man repeated, rolling his eyes and heaving an annoyed sigh. He leaned his weight onto his hip and ran his free hand through his shaggy bedhead. “Look, Fabio, I don’t know if you’re confused or if this is supposed to be some joke, but this,” he gestured around the room, with his bat, “is my space. If anybody’s shitty at robbery, it’s you, bro. Rule number one of being a thief: Don’t fall asleep at the target’s house, ya idiot!”

Roman glares even harder at the man, feeling his irritation transform into rage. It wasn’t until he took a conscious glance at the area around him and that influx of anger simmered swiftly. “This… isn’t my apartment.” He states, more for himself, but the man scoffs and replies, “Obviously, you dipshit. What the hell are you doing here?”

Grey irises are still scanning the area, as Roman tries to gain his bearings. “I don’t know…” He answers honestly. What exactly happened last night that lead him into the wrong apartment and onto this man’s couch? He remembers he had work yesterday.

He had been on working overtime for the past ten days or so and he remembers feeling like his body was going to shut down, but he fought through it, promising it that it could get all the sleep it wanted when he got home. He had managed to drive the twenty minutes back home, walk himself up the stairs, and enter an apartment before falling victim to his exhaustion.

“Oh.” He says, finally putting two and two together.

“Oh?” The man repeats, eyebrow raised and arms crossed in front of his chest, ready and expecting a plausible answer. Roman stands and chuckles bashfully.

“Ah… I must’ve accidentally passed out in your place instead of mine.”

“Obviously.” The reply is immediate and sharp; it makes Roman flinch. Now that he thinks about it, it was kind of a stupid, vague answer.

“Truth is, I’ve been working overtime all week. I walked into the wrong apartment and my body just gave out, okay? You know, you’re over there callin’ me an idiot. Who doesn’t lock their doors at night? You’re pretty much askin’ to get robbed or killed.”

“Did it on purpose.” The guy replies instantly, demeanor now completely casual as he takes his bat and beats it gently into the palm of his free hand. “Wanted to get some practice with ol’ Bessie here on motherfuckers like you who are stupid enough to come in here.”

He says this with all the seriousness in the world, his sapphire irises threatening him to challenge his answer. Roman, stuck in disbelief at this guy’s personality, actually laughs. He doesn’t know why, but he feels a lightness, like this man’s answer was a fresh breeze that blew all the tension in the room. Roman finds it, for a lack of a better word, interesting. This guy is interesting. He wants to know more. They had to be neighbors, so how had he never notice him before?

“Right…” He responds, unconvinced, daring to take some steps closer. “Listen, let me make it up to you. Don’t call the cops or, uh, beat my ass, and I’ll take you out.”

The guy’s eyebrows furrow together and he stares at Roman skeptically. “You askin’ me out?” He asks bluntly.

“I’m tryna apologize.” Roman says, avoiding the question, because he’s not sure how to answer that. “I’ll get you whatever you want and I’ll be outta your hair forever. Just don’t turn me in. Or ram the bat down my throat. That cool?”

“And if I don’t want you to be outta my hair?”

Roman’s taken aback by the question and he falls silently for a moment, processing what was just said. He can’t help the smirk that spreads on his lips and apparently neither can the man. They scan each other again, this time in a different light and a gleam in each of their eyes tell them they mutually like what they see.

“Dean…” The man says, breaking the silence. “I expect some fancy shit, Mr. I-worked-overtime, or I swear to God, I’ll have the cops at your door faster than it took for you to fall in love with me.”

Roman, once again, is stunned silent, but he recovers this time and lets out another chuckle. “Roman. And you’re givin’ yourself too much credit. Nobody said this was a date.”

“Never said it wasn’t.” Dean shoots back.

“Not in love either.” Roman continues, his grin widening. “Just tryna to get outta trouble.”

“Mm-hmm.” Dean hums, sounding absolutely doubtful.

He walks across the small living room, passing Roman by normally enough. Roman, though, felt that surge of attraction, as well purposeful teasing. He didn’t turn around to watch Dean, but his eyes followed regardless.

“Get me at 8.” Dean declares, smirk in full effect as he made his way to the kitchen. “Now get the fuck outta my house.”


	2. That's... Not mine?

It’s only three words, but it does enough damage. It takes the all of the air out of the room, leaving both women in piercing silence. Though the question drops a challenge, it’s a threat to each heart. Who has the balls to speak first? Who will lie? Who will break?

Paige is sure she's not going to be the one. There’s ice being injected in her veins. Her brain’s gone on lockdown and the only thing she can do is stare at Nikki, stare at the tiny, lacy, black panties dangling from her pretty manicured finger.

Nikki seems to be in the same state, except instead of ice, her blood’s boiling every second she stands in the quiet. The Bella would love nothing more than to scratch at her skin, pick away the flesh and drain the lava flowing through every limb, but she can’t move.

Because if she does, she’ll explode, and she doesn’t want to give Paige the satisfaction. Her pride would be damned if she let Paige see her cry, see her vulnerable, beg that what she’s thinking isn’t true and the underwear in her hand is just a figment of her imagination.

Those aren’t Nikki’s. Nowhere near what her girlfriend wears, not to mention the size of the lingerie is way too small. Paige feels trapped, like the bubble of air that’s caught in her throat as she struggles to speak. She can’t lie. There’s absolutely no way she can. Truth or not, she knows Nikki’s going to freak.

She can’t believe she’s about to lose the love of her life in the next moment, as she struggles to force words out of her mouth. She should have known this day would come, but she got cocky, thought she could have not only her cake, but ice cream too, and eat it. It kills her to admit that she let the other woman get to her, but the attraction was always too strong, too intoxicating.

That woman was a drug that Paige couldn’t quit. That woman was a cancer that Nikki had living in her body for a while now that she’s just caught a little too late.

The longer the silence stretches, the more Nikki balls the incriminating evidence in her hand into a tight fist.

“Why are these in my house…? Why has _she_ been in my house?”

Nikki’s raspy tone shatters the bubble of tension, only to create a more hostile one that makes Paige flinch when she speaks.

“…” Paige continues to stare, an answer not coming anytime soon. When Nikki realizes that, Paige notices a flare of rage in her gorgeous chocolate irises. Paige notices, that Nikki Bella just may go to jail tonight for murder.


	3. Don't Worry About Me

This was probably going to be the biggest match of his life. Definitely the most brutal, but he doesn’t mind. If anything, he craves it. He misses that rush of adrenaline from a match that may leave him broken, physically and mentally. His hands fold in on themselves tightly, then releases in an erratic rhythm.

A slight tremble rocks through him as he takes deep inhales of humid, sweat stained air. He wants to spit it out, but considers his manners, as he has a special guest in the room with him.

The thought brings a chuckle to his throat as he bounces from foot to foot, shakes out his hands, and nods his head as far as it can go to his back, then as close as it can get to his chest.

“You’re bringin’ me down, you’re bringin’ me down, Roman.” He finally says into the silence. He continues to jump, paces, and he turns to face the Samoan.

Roman looks up, a heavy set frown etched onto his face. He rests his elbows on his thighs and his hands are clasped together, probably to keep from wringing around and showcasing worry, but Dean can see through it, plain as day. He can practically feel Roman’s concern oozing out of him and creeping around the room, creeping around him, crawling up his legs.

Dean stares, awaiting an answer, but it quickly becomes obvious that Roman’s not going to give one. He just glares, his jaw clenching every so often.

Dean sighs, not believing that he had to comfort Roman before his own match. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Then again, he wasn’t surprised that Roman would be acting this way. No Holds Barred with Brock Lesnar… That’s not something to take lightly at all.

But Dean doesn’t need Roman’s concern or patronizing tone at the moment. As much as he knows it out of nothing but love, he really doesn’t want that, doesn’t need it. He needs adrenaline, he needs rage and ferocity. He needs to be pumped.

He stops bouncing and takes the four steps over to Roman. He grabs his best friend by the chin and forces him to look up at him, before roughly planting his lips on his. He parts Roman’s lips with his tongue, forcing his way through and claiming every inch of that man’s mouth.

He hears Roman growl, possibly out of frustration, not appreciating that Dean’s trying to direct his attention onto something else other than his wellbeing.

Dean ignores everything, moving his hands up into Roman’s loose, not-yet-wet hair. His fingers tangle into that beautiful mane, tugging and scratching at his scalp.

When Dean bites at Roman’s bottom lip, he knows he’s finally broken through to the big man. He feels Roman’s fingers digging into his hips, pulling him closer. It’s a fight now, both of them clawing at every inch of skin they can get their hands on, biting and leaving angry marks on each other’s lips.

Dean sighs again, this time out of contentment. This is what he needed. That electric flow that gets his blood boiling, that intoxicating feeling of the rush of danger and invincibility. He leans away and takes a much needed breath of oxygen. His hand slips down to Roman’s cheek, his fingers curling around it.

The look on Roman’s face is absolutely stunning. All flushed and frustrated. It’s got all the blood in Dean’s body rushing between his legs, but now’s not the time for that. He chuckles and pats Roman’s cheek three times, before slipping from his grip.

“Get that title. Kick ass and get that title.” Dean assures as he strolls to the door. He swings it open, setting a foot through the threshold before he twists his head, giving Roman one last look, a blinding bright smile and a grateful twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about me.”


	4. An Interesting Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a part of the "Roman Chub Club" thing we got going on on Tumblr *pulls collar*

“Ro… Sit on my lap.”

That comment was enough to knock Roman out of his libidinous haze, his insecurities bubbling back to the surface with a vengeance. Even though he and Dean had been together for months now, Roman’s never gotten over the fact that he had a slight bulge in his stomach and thighs and ass that the girls at his school would kill for. He doesn’t even notice that his arm automatically wrapping around his middle.

Dean begins to twitch next to him, drawing back Roman’s attention. The football player blinks, feeling his boyfriend’s impatience hit him like a truck and realizing that he just turned **THE** Dean Ambrose into a pile of putty from just a couple of minutes of making out. The blonde was absolutely straining in his jeans, face flushed a light scarlet, his hips shuddering and lifting, begging for friction.

Roman could hear his heart beating in his ears, probably because all of the blood in his body shifted in between his legs and all he thinks is how he’s an idiot for letting his fears hold him back from this heavenly sight.

“Dean… I-“

“Roman, please.”

“Dean, I’m two hundred and ninety pounds-“

Roman’s complaints went on deaf ears as Dean pulled him down for a quick, heated lip lock. Dean’s fingers threaded through Roman’s hair, latching on tight and demanding silently for the Samoan to oblige. He pulled at the roots, causing Roman to open his mouth and moan.

Dean took the opportunity and let his tongue invade inside. Everything began to black in Roman’s vision, nothing but the wet sounds of he and Dean and the warm, submerging sensation of Dean’s possessive kiss.

It ended way too soon, had Roman following Dean as the blonde pulled away with a sadistic smirk on his lips. Roman opened his eyes, a little embarrassed at his greediness, but leaned back in anyway, despite the shame. Dean tilted his head, purposely avoiding Roman’s lips.

“Roman.” Grey eyes became lidded at his name, that command. The rasp in Dean’s voice destroying every last one of his insecurities, replacing all thoughts with the word ‘Obey’.

Roman nodded sharply and stood. He looked upon Dean, who watched him like he was about to explain the answer to the universe. A hotter flame burned beneath his skin, but he took a breath and slid his thighs on each of Dean’s sides, sitting as gently as he possibly could in Dean’s lap.

Dean released a groan that made Roman freak out momentarily, had him wondering if he had crushed the blonde, but that thought was quickly shot down when he felt Dean rolling his hips up. Dean rested his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering, mouth agape.

“God damn, it’s better than I thought it would be.” He commented softly, making Roman assume he was talking to himself.

“Have you… Have you imagined me sitting on you?” Roman asked as his hands caressed Dean’s neck, guiding his face back up to his. Dean’s own hands traced over Roman’s sides, under his shirt, and rested on his stomach.

A small squeak sounded in his throat, though he was shocked to discover it wasn’t out of embarrassment, but in arousal. That smirk reappeared on Dean’s face, taking great pride in Roman’s reaction.

“I’ve been imagining you doing a lot of things to me.”


	5. Baby, I'm On The Phone

The phrase makes Nikki and Brie cringe away from the phone. Nikki pulls the device away from their ears and the twins glare at it, like it suddenly began oozing slime, which it might as well be. They stare at each other for a short moment, before promptly bursting into laughter.

“Ew! What?” They both exclaim at the same time into the receiver, before Nikki follows it up with, “Is Ambrose with you?”

“Obviously, Nicole. Who else could he possibly be talking to?” Brie giggles and Nikki follows suit.

“How about we not make fun of my relationship and actually--,” Roman begins, but soon stops, making the twins lean in without thought. Just them naturally being nosy.

There’s silence, then the wet sound of lips being brought together and apart. They can hear a grunt, which they assume to be Roman, then quiet, deep whispers. “Dean, please…”

“C’mon, Ro, lemme have ya. Lemme…”

“Baby, I gotta talk to them. We have an interview tomorrow.” There’s a pause, before there’s shuffling and it takes Brie and Nikki all of their strength not to cackle at the scene they’re hearing.

“Actually talk about business?” Roman says finally, and that’s the straw to break the twins’ back. They crack up, falling back onto the bed together. Nikki accidentally drops her phone on the floor, leaving Roman alone on the line with nothing but their noise.

“Hey! You guys, it’s not that funny! Hello? Hello?!” He only gets distant rambunctious laughter as an answer and he almost hangs up in irritation. Dean beats him to it, his hand slipping into Roman’s and removing the offending phone. He chucks it onto the nightstand next to them and makes it point to push Roman down onto the bed. Before Roman could protest, Dean straddles him, kissing him hard enough to where Roman even forgets what he was angry about in the first place. When Dean begins to grind against his stirring arousal, the important thought he was going to tell Dean also flies out of his mind.

_‘What are you doing? … Well, at least end the call first.’_

Instead, the champ goes along with his best friend’s motions, gripping Dean’s hips and raising his own to meet Dean’s rhythm. They reluctantly break apart for air, Dean quickly finding new focus in Roman’s jaw and neck as he placed his saliva stained lips on any piece of skin he could reach. Roman’s own hands began to play, sneaking underneath Dean’s shirt and caressing his boy’s heated sides.

“… Lemme suck your dick…” Dean mutters as he descends to his desired destination. It makes Roman smirk. He raises a hand to Dean’s head, ruffling his already wild locks.

“I’ll never say no to that.”

Nikki was about to drop her phone again. She blushed deeply, her phone pressed so hard to her ear it was beginning to hurt. She put her free hand over her mouth and crossed her legs, feeling that telltale heat in between her legs. They had to leave, she knew. That’s why Brie wasn’t with her, but in the bathroom, assuming that Roman had hung up and the conversation was done. Nikki, just her luck, had retrieved her phone, hearing slight noises and words that sounded brazenly intimate. Roman had forgot to end the call… This was the perfect setup to tease him again, but she was somehow swept up in their unseen scene. The Bella bit her lip as she listened in. Noises were all she needed…

“Nikki, are leaving or what? Let’s go!” Brie insists, waiting at the door and tapping her foot impatiently. Nikki jumps and ends the call. She stands, a little too fast, and almost tumbles over, but she manages to catch herself before Brie can suspect anything suspicious.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”


	6. Do You Trust Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Another Chub Club Drabble***

That gets Roman to stop squirming. He manages to finally look away from the unflattering point of view of his body and look Dean in the face. He really looks at him, deep into those pretty baby blues. Roman’s never seen Dean look so sincere, so genuinely worried for someone else’s wellbeing other than his own.

This is Dean Ambrose he was currently lying under. The delinquent Dean Ambrose. That guy that’s every parent and teachers’ worst nightmare. The guy who’s constantly skipping class and smokes like a 40-year-old man who’s been to war one too many times. The bad influence of a teen who everybody’s sure isn’t going to be walking on graduation day later this year.

And yet, here was that Dean Ambrose, gazing upon him with purely concentrated love and touching him with the utmost care.

Roman can feel Dean’s fingertips tremble as they lightly brush over the lower part of his stomach, begging for the green light to go farther. Roman shivers under his touch, sucking in the slight belly he has out of habit, out of insecurity.

“Roman, please.” Dean whispers and Roman wants to hide. He’s never seen Dean this way, never expected such a soft side from him. And it’s all for him. Just for him.

“… I like it.” The blonde continues, sensing that was breaching Roman’s guard. “A lot. Beautiful, Ro…” A small grin blossoms on his lips and he decides to take a chance. He lets his fingers stroke down, stopping at the hem of Roman’s shorts. He looks up, catching a glimpse of his crush.

He’s getting there, close to capturing Roman’s complete trust. What with that alluring ruby flush coloring his cocoa skin, his mouth parted slightly, taking shallow breaths, and his shockingly silver eyes shouting every word that’s synonymous with pleased and aroused.

But he still pauses, wanting Roman to consent outloud. The last thing he wants is to make the holder of his affections uncomfortable. Not to mention, Dean wants the spoken satisfaction, that he’s finally caught Roman Reigns hook, line and sinker.

Roman places a hand on his shoulder and Dean’s heart drops, thinking Roman’s going to push him away, that’s he lost and quite possibly will never fall in love again, but the star football player does the opposite. Roman sits up and connects their lips, sweet and simple.

_‘I like you too. A lot.’_

Dean’s taken aback only for a second, but the message is heard loud and clear. He puts his own hand on Roman’s cheek and allows him to control the pace, happily following Roman’s movements as he begins to press a little harder and tongues are introduced.

_‘Thanks… For accepting me. When I don’t even accept myself.’_

Dean moans in response and Roman chuckles into the kiss, as his hand climbs behind Dean’s neck and leads him back down with him. Roman kisses him, relays silent sweet nothings for a little while longer, before he breaks it.

They’re both gasping for air and it makes them laugh. In the middle of it all, Roman grabs Dean by the wrist and brings it to his hip. Dean stops laughing, his eyes finding Roman’s once again, this time in pleasant surprise.

“Yeah. I trust you.”


	7. Regret at its Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said that made me feel like shit and things you said when you thought i was asleep

Seth’s near tears at this point. He grips at the fluffy pillow beneath his head tight and tries to keep his breathing slow and regulated. There’s nothing but a bunch of rustling and cursing coming from the other side of the bed and the longer Seth hears it, the closer he is to giving away the fact that he’s not asleep. No, he is wide awake and listening to everything Roman has to say as the current champ hurriedly pulls on his clothes and collects his things.

“I can’t believe I did this.”

Obviously, this meant what he and Seth just did about two hours ago. This being what Seth thought at the time was one of the greatest moments of his life. This was supposed to be he and Roman finally reuniting in the most euphoric way possible. Seth though this was him getting back at least one of the loves of his life and riding said love’s dick off into the sunset, but apparently not…

“Dean’s gonna fuckin’ kill me. Oh my God… He’s not gonna want me anymore.” The bed dips, telling Seth that Roman’s sat back onto the comforter. Roman puts his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His body shakes and he swings his head back and forth, like if he wished hard enough, he wouldn’t be in Seth’s room and what went down between them never happened.

“Not gonna want me after I’ve been in some traitor scum. How could I do this to him?” The tears are falling heavy now, but Seth’s sure he’s got his illusion of unconsciousness still perfectly in place. Though he wonders how Roman doesn’t notice his lie when Seth can practically hear his heart shatter into millions and millions of pieces.

“Ugh… I feel so disgusting. Dean, please forgive me…”

Just as Seth chokes up a sound, the bed moves again. He keeps his back to Roman and his body in an imitation of Sleeping Beauty as Roman turns around to face him. It’s silent for the longest time and it kills Seth. His body’s being attacked by impending shudders, his teeth bite into his lip.

He tastes blood at the exact moment he hears Roman hiss out, “I hate you. I hope I never fucking see you again.”


	8. Now's a Better Time Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when you were scared

Nikki’s all smiles as huge tear drops run down her cheeks and off the sides of her face. She wipes them away, but soon gives up as there’s just no sign of stopping despite her constant reassurance of her well-being. She just stares, heart filling with happiness, and lets those tears fall.

“I thought I would have to live without you.” Paige blubbers, as she wipes away the waterfalls coming out of her eyes and onto Nikki’s face. Nikki’s never seen her look so colorful; Paige’s face is a strawberry red, dark violet rings adorning the bottom of her cocoa colored eyes.

It’s absolutely beautiful and Nikki wishes she could sit up and kiss Paige senseless, but she’s currently confined to a hospital bed, fresh out of neck surgery with strict orders not to move a muscle.

“Paige,–“ The Bella begins, in another effort to calm her sobbing girlfriend, but she’s silenced by Paige’s lips. A surprisingly soft peck to her mouth and Nikki shuts up, not saying another word as Paige leans away.

“No… Nicole, I…” Paige starts, but she stops suddenly, looking like a fresh batch of tears were on the way. Nikki lets her take time, watching her seriously, anxiously waiting on what Paige had to say.

“I love you.” Paige declares. Nikki almost responds with an eye roll and an ‘I know,’ but she manages to hold it back as Paige continues. “I really, really love you. I cannot stress that enough. When I saw you, unconscious, and when they rolled you away from me, I thought my heart stopped. I know this was supposed to be an easy procedure and we agreed that you would be fine, but…” Paige’s face twists again and a small whimper sounds from her throat.

“I couldn’t help but think about what could go wrong! If I would have lost you today… This whole shitstorm just made me see how much you mean to me and how much I love you and… and… You’re my whole world, Nicole. I couldn’t go on if you left me. I was so scared.”

Nikki wipes at tears again, this time, her own, because she feels like Paige just shattered her heart and rejuvenated it at the same time. Her usually overly tough girlfriend is bawling her eyes out, looking so small… Nikki’s not used to this and she wants nothing more to hold Paige right now. “I don’t want you out of my life, Nikki.”

“I won’t.” Nikki answers immediately, her voice raspy from tears and surgical drugs.

“Ever. I mean it.” Paige resumes, pressing tiny, fleeting kisses to Nikki’s face, then one full one to her lips.

“Nicole, I want you forever… Marry me.”


	9. Pray You Catch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

Dean’s not one to spy. Call him whatever you want: crazy, lunatic, eccentric, but he wasn’t a God damn busy body. Especially when it came to Roman. If Roman needed time alone, Dean would gladly give it to him.

He respected him enough for that, loved him enough for that. He trusted him enough for that, despite his growing suspicions as each “break” Roman takes, becomes longer and longer.

Something’s wrong, but Roman shrugs off any and every question with that annoyingly dazzling smile and a short reply of reassurance. Dean knows what it’s like to need to space, whether just for some silence or to let out some pent out aggravation, so he leaves Roman to it. Roman’s a grown man, if he needs help, he’ll ask.

So when Dean ends up getting a front row seat to “Roman Time”, it’s by complete accident, but inside, he’s grateful. Even through his bullshit mottos of taking care of business alone and asking for support when you want it, Dean can’t deny the fact that his heart yearns to know what the hell Roman’s doing alone. He desperately wants to help Roman out with whatever the hell’s going on, no matter how severe the situation was. Because he loved Roman.

Despite his flippantness towards showing affection, or letting it blatantly be known that he is indeed the one shouting Roman’s name while he’s under the Samoan almost every night, that man was Dean’s center, his world, the fucking moon, sun and stars and Dean’d be damned if he’d let Roman suffer. “It’s not enough! It’s never enough? Why?” And yet, as Roman begins his rant to nothing in particular, Dean feels he’s done exactly that.

“It’s not enough… ‘M not enough. It’s too much.”

Roman hasn’t elaborated on what exactly he’s not good enough for, but when his head tilts to the side where his title lays on the hotel room’s chair, Dean puts two and two together.

“They say I don’t deserve it… Do I deserve it? Is this just because my family? Am I overrated?”

Dean watches from inside the bathroom that Roman doesn’t know he’s currently occupying. He probably assumes Dean’s still on the road, on his way. Well, Dean’s most definitely on his way. To Roman, who sits slouched over on the bed, because Dean doesn’t think he can handle the rest of this self-deprecating bullshit.

“…Dean.”

Dean freezes when he hears his name, so caught up in his thoughts, he thinks he’s been found out. He quietly slinks out of the bathroom and makes his way out to Roman, ready to say an apology, but Roman continues and Dean once again becomes paralyzed.

“…Deserves it. You do. More than me. Should be yours. ‘M sorry I’m in your way…”


	10. It's Still There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when you were crying

There’s not a lot said between Dean and Seth. If anything, there’s nothing said at all between the two, save for in the ring (and even then, it consists of Seth screaming hurtful obscenities and Dean retorting with a punch to his face).

So when they are forced into a situation they can’t avoid or fate decides to be a bitch and has them cross paths, they communicate in their own language. A language that has no spoken words and is devoid of any emotion with the exception of rage.

Just glares, _“Why the hell does some piece of shit like you get to be here, in my presence?”_

The occasional middle finger flip, _“Fuckin’ traitor. Take one step closer and I’ll rip your head off.”_

A grunt here, a growl there. Some gestures so full of vexation that they’re indiscernible to others around them. Their way of speaking follows them wherever they go, not just in the stadium they happen to be working. Like when Dean’s lying in bed at some hotel, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the clock to turn to two in the morning.

At two, Seth seems the most talkative. It’s almost every day, at the same time, Seth calls and he relays the same message that Dean just can’t stop answering and listening to.

Just heavy breathing in the oppressive silence, _“I’m sorry… I regret everything. You are worth so much more than what I gave you up for.”_

The occasional choked back sob, _“I miss you, I miss you so much. I want you, I want you. I will never not love you…”_

A nod here, a small word of acknowledgment there and it’s over like that, only to be repeated the next day.

It’s a language all their own. Just theirs. Special.


	11. ... And A Few Other Things I Can Not Mention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when you were drunk

The first time she says it, Nikki doesn’t take it to heart. Paige is pretty much out of her mind at this point. Nikki’s sure Paige’s got more vodka and tequila flowing through her veins than actual blood. It’s fine though, they’re off tomorrow and this isn’t the first time Nikki’s had to deal with a drunk person. She actually finds Paige easier to deal with than her sister. The Brit’s been quiet, mumbling nonsense here and there. She almost falls out of chair a few times, but it’s nothing Nikki can’t handle. Paige scoots her stool closer to Nikki.

“Steady. You keep me steady.”

Their thighs touch, and Nikki ignores the lack of space and the warmth spilling onto her skin.

The second time she says it, Nikki still isn’t taking her seriously. Paige is leaning onto her, giggling relentlessly at some joke she’d messed up half way through. Nikki’s laughing too, because the intoxicated joy Paige is radiating is just contagious. Possibly because Nikki’s not completely sober herself, but she doesn’t look too much into it. Paige wraps her arms around the Bella, whispering sweet apologies and loving gratitude.

“I know you aren’t my sister, but you treat me like one and I appreciate it, y’know? I appreciate you.”

The third time she says it Nikki finally feels a shudder. She blames it on Paige’s closeness, on her drunken stupor. The younger woman’s chest pressed tightly against her arm and her breath heavy on her ear. The Bella holds back another shiver as she feels Paige’s black painted nail pick at the sleeve of her dress. She pulls it down slowly, leaving a trail of electricity in her wake. Nikki’s surprised that she hasn’t jolted from her seat from how extreme it feels.

“Beautiful, y’know? Fuck those assholes who make fun of your outfits! You’re hot.”

The fourth time she says it, Nikki stares at her, dumbfounded. There’s a terrifying awareness in Paige’s chocolate colored irises that leaves Nikki frozen and wondering if she was the real drunk one. Paige’s got a hand on her cheek, stroking her reddening cheeks. Paige is talking, but Nikki’s only watching her lipstick smudged mouth, as she ponders how she let Paige and her obvious feelings slip by without any acknowledgement.

“… Been trying to get your attention…”

“… Scared…”

“… Had to use liquor, ha…”

Is what’s picked up through Nikki’s thoughts. Her heart hurts and Nikki’s not shocked to feel the awful sting of tears prick her eyes. She feels stupid and terrible. Like she’s led Paige on all this time, let her suffer in silence with her feelings, put a limit on their relationship with all the ‘little sister’ remarks. Paige laughs, like she can read her mind, and wipes away her tears.

The last time she says it, Nikki’s sure her heart explodes as Paige kisses her with those beautiful alcohol soaked lips.

“I love you.”


	12. Finding Love in Strange Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m really sorry you had to see me like this stranger but would you mind helping me out of this trash can” AU

Roman heaved out a breath of impatience, frustration filling his lungs on the renewed intake of air.

“Sir, would please get the hell outta the trash can?”

The fact that he even had to say that phrase made his brain pound harder. There wasn’t any time for this, he honest to God did NOT have time for this. Not when it was 7:50 and he had an 8 o’clock class to get to. He already had a headache and was currently running on about 2 hours of sleep, dealing with some hungover loser was the last thing he should’ve been worried about.

“Hey!” He growled.

The man answered with a snore, to which Roman responded with a kick to the plastic bucket. Roman watched with spiteful satisfaction as the man awoke with a startled shout and gripped onto the sides of the trash can to keep from falling.

“Ah! What the fuck, man?” He whined, actually having the audacity to relax back into the gross space. Roman’s face scrunched up in disgusted, but this guy’s…interesting ways weren’t enough to deter his efforts to get him out.

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, bro, but I’m gonna need you to hop your ass outta my trash.”

The man yawns and rubs at his eyes, like some cute, abandoned cat and Roman wants to kick his ass even more now. He can feel his nails burying deep into his palms as his hands ball into fists and his jaw locks up in effort just to not explode. Now, the guy’s just staring at him, sapphire irises tired, but curiously alert and it makes Roman squirm.

“Look. The city dump’s, like, 20 minutes away from here? I’m sure the heap piles would make a better bed—“

“You’re hot.”

Roman stares at the man, shocked at the words that interrupted him. “Excuse me?”

The guy shrugs, a lazy gesture, almost as lazy as the smirk that blossoms on his lips. “You’re attractive as hell. Sucks I gotta meet ya while I’m in a trash can, but I’m sure I haven’t lost this game yet.”

Grey eyes narrow, pure concentrated disbelief running hot through Roman’s veins. Who did this fool think he was? “I ain’t got time for this, man—“

“Hey, can you help me out? Kinda stuck here.” Another interruption has Roman rolling his eyes and he thinks about leaving this guy in the trash. The more he interacts with him, the more he’s beginning to think that that’s where he belongs. Too bad that this is his designated trash can and he’d be damned to be known as the type to leave trash out in the street.

“Man, you’re fucking ripped. I’m sure you can get me out.”

“Shut up.” Roman’s had enough of this still slightly drunk guy’s flirtatious comments, and it’s not because he’s feeling an influx of heat rising to his cheeks. Roman steps forward, offering a hand to the man who takes it almost greedily. It doesn’t take much to pull him out, though the trash can does flip over as the guy hops out, large, black bags rolling out behind him. Roman sees it as a joke and grins. The trash misses their king already.

His eyes don’t stay on the bags for long. They gravitate to another pair of eyes in front of him that are far too close for comfort. Roman jumps a little, and he tries to take a step back, only to feel himself pulling those intruding eyes along with him. He looks down and discovers that he’s still holding onto this dude’s hand. Well, he’s not holding on, this guy just has a death grip on him, hands and eyes alike. Roman finds himself unable to look or pull away, quickly getting snagged in this guy’s magnetic aura, despite his uneasiness and all alarms telling him to leave.

The man chuckled, his eyes flickering from Roman’s eyes to his lips.

“Dean. Name’s Dean.”


	13. Pay Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t mind that my roommate’s boyfriend stays over constantly; I mind that he walks around our apartment-style housing naked” AU

Roman never considered himself a bookworm, but he wasn’t an idiot either. He couldn’t afford to be, really. Not when he’s got a football scholarship and his team’s captain position riding his ass. So, he took it upon himself, like a good, respectable student he was, to study whenever he possibly could.

Being pretty popular (he can’t just say no to the beautiful Nikki Bella and her iconic sorority parties) and 75 percent of his time being consumed by football, there’s not a lot of that “possible time”, but he makes time regardless. That’s not his real problem.

No, what Roman has a problem with, is that that small window of time he devotes to studying, seems to be the same time Seth decides to have his flavor of the month over for some very loud, cacophonous bedroom games.

When Roman first moved into his dorm and met Seth, there was no denying the brunet was hot and his personality was nauseatingly attractive. Roman would’ve been shocked if Seth _didn’t_ have somebody to screw. Unfortunately, that was the understatement of the century; Seth had about a thousand plus people to get nasty with.

For some bizarre reason Seth managed to time these sexual rendezvous at the exact moment Roman decided to study. No place in the dorm was safe, for Roman either got a glimpse of the show and its performers or he got an audio play-by-play.

One time, Seth even banged on the wall that separated their rooms and asked Roman if he enjoyed the music, which prompted Roman to leave and spend the rest of the weekend at his twin cousins’ place.

At some point, Roman ended up getting used to it, not as if he had a choice. Spending three whole semesters with the school’s resident humanizer (that’s what Roman calls him because he’s sure Seth fucks anything that walks on two legs and can hold a conversation about what rock t-shirt to buy at Hot Topic), just traumatized him to where nothing surprised him anymore.

He’s even gotten so bold as to study in the living area, meeting and greeting the array of Seth’s partners first hand.

_‘Hey Randy.’_

_‘Hey Brie.’_

_‘Hey Dean.’_

_‘Hey... Professor Helmsley…’_

_‘Hey Dean.’_

_‘Hey Kevin.’_

_‘Hey Dean.’_

_‘Hey Paige.’_

_‘Hey Dean.’_

_‘Hey Dean.’_

_‘Hey Dean.’_

About two months into the new semester, Roman noticed something off. His dorm wasn’t having its normal candy store type feel anymore. Apparently, Seth finally found his favorite flavor in one Dean Ambrose.

Roman had biology with him, but Dean was still pretty well known. Infamously, more often than not. He was known to go around screaming about some type of conspiracy theory (which Roman silently agreed on) or hitting on girls like some jerk off (Roman’s seen him slapped more times than he probably should have). Everybody thought he was some psycho, Roman thought otherwise. He always felt it was an act, that Dean knew exactly what he was doing and saying, but Roman never questioned it.

He just never thought Dean to be Seth’s type, then again anybody was Seth’s type. Obviously there had to be some kind of conspiracy in Dean’s pants, because he practically lived with them now.

Roman smiled to himself, as he shifted on the couch and sat criss-cross style. He brought his books closer to him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, then heaved a sigh, smile dying swiftly.

Sad truth was he _did_ know what Dean was packing down there, as it seemed Dean’s I-do-what-I-want attitude didn’t just exist out in public.

Roman can’t couldn’t count how many times he’s caught, no caught, been shown why Dean was Seth’s main squeeze all of a sudden. Roman blamed it on perfect timing, like it usually was, but after maybe the fourth time, he was beginning to think Dean wanted to put on a show.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, Dean doing the most to get attention, but it through Roman off that he wanted _his_ attention specifically when he had Seth just ten feet away.

The clicking sound of a door jolted Roman out of his oddly Dean explicit thoughts. He blinked rapidly and scrambled to arrange his books and posture to look like he had been studying all along.

Like clockwork, Dean stepped out of Seth’s room, as naked as the day he was born. The blonde opened his mouth wide and yawned, and scratched at the back of his sex mused locks.

Roman proceeded to keep his head down, twirling his pencil between his fingers. No need to pay attention to something ‘normal’ when he had a midterm the next day.

“Roman.” Dean rasped, stopping directly in front of him.

“Uh, yeah?” Roman replied, but kept his head down, eyes going over the same sentence he’d been stuck on for the past twenty minutes.

“You still got my juice?”

“Yeah, of course. No one else drinks the shit.”

Dean laughed and, from Roman’s peripheral, didn’t make a move to leave. He stood there, in all his naked glory, seemingly waiting for something. Roman’s divided attention began to slip towards Dean the longer the somewhat awkward silence stretched on.

“… Have fun with Seth?” Stupid question, Roman knows, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind and he was beginning to itch from being under Dean’s gaze.

“Yep.” Dean pops his lips on the last syllable. “He’s knocked out. Maybe had too much fun, huh?”

Roman resists shuddering from the dirty image and gives Dean a half assed smile. “Haha, yeah, I guess… Gonna get back there?”

“Soon.”

Roman nodded and that was that. Yet… Dean still stood there, staring.

A shiver twitched through Roman’s muscles, as he felt Dean’s eyes crawl over his body, admire his body. He felt Dean’s demand of attention creeping around him, creeping toward him, but he wasn’t about to look up; didn’t have a reason to. If Dean wanted to be weird, then fine, but he wasn’t about to let him affect his studies.

No matter how long he stood, silent and insistent. After about three minutes, Roman couldn’t help but tic and spasm under Dean’s pressure, as well as the heated flush to his skin. He felt beyond uncomfortable, though deep down he wondered if it was out of embarrassment or irritation.

Roman couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his pencil down and his head whipped up. “What? Why are you still here?” He asked, annoyed, burning his silver irises into Dean’s blue ones.

Much to his chagrin, even his challenging eyes faltered, slowly slipping down and taking in every cut and muscle Dean’s body had to offer. Attractive, was the first word that came to mind. Shocking was the next. Who knew Dean Ambrose was hiding all of that under his clothes?

Especially that large, rising d-

Dean huffed a chuckle, rolled his eyes and continued into the small kitchen, nonetheless pleased that he won the game and got Roman’s attention. Roman sat, stunned at both what he saw and his body’s reaction to the sight.

_‘He’s hot… Really hot… I wouldn’t mind…’_ Touching Dean. That’d be nice. See why Seth’s in such a fuss about him.

The slam of the fridge brought Roman out of his perverted reverie, making him jump slightly to cover his body and mind’s growing curiosity.

“Goin’ back now.” Dean announced, as he passed by, cup of juice in hand. “You know, since I’m here most of time, you should help me study sometimes, yeah?”

He gave Roman one last glance, some cocky smirk gracing his lips that had the pit of Roman’s stomach buzzing.

“Maybe… When Seth’s not around.”


End file.
